


Merci

by VashWritingPro



Series: Of Love, Passion, and Two Really Old Idiots [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, But only if you squint, Dom Steve Rogers, Gen, Language Kink, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Student!Bucky Barnes, Submission, Teacher!Steve Rogers, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Top Steve Rogers, french kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VashWritingPro/pseuds/VashWritingPro
Summary: For as long as he can remember, Bucky Barnes has always loved it when Steve spoke French. It’s only very recently that he’s begun to realize just how many ways it can affect his body when he does.X-X-X-XAka, Bucky gets hot and bothered during his and Steve’s French lessons, and Steve is quick to do something about it.X-X-X-XFeaturing!A sex-hungry kinky boy who wants nothing more than to please his fella,An observant blonde who wants nothing more than to give him the opportunity,And a lesson-gone-wrong.





	Merci

**Author's Note:**

> So I don’t speak French but I got a good friend of mine who does to look this over, and I probably still have a few mistakes that I forgot to fix, so he kind! I hope you all enjoy ❤️❤️

The thing about learning French that had always been Bucky’s favorite part was that he and Steve got to learn it together as long as the punk was in school. After all, fail the class a couple of times, and you might get lucky enough to be stuck in French I with an adorable little scrap of a boy who sits in the front row because he can’t see far enough to sit in the back.

Perhaps Bucky didn’t so much adore the language as he adored hearing other people speak it. It had always been Steve who sent shivers down his spine, though. It wasn’t right that a guy as little as him had a voice as deep and smooth. It wasn’t right that Steve continued studying the language even after high school and actually got freakishly good at it. It wasn’t right that during the war, he studied it even harder and got even better at it.

And it certainly wasn’t fair that Bucky had to study it again just to understand every little word his fella said.

At first it had been a pain in the ass. Steve was very nit-picky about Bucky’s grammar and pronunciation. But soon it became almost therapeutic. Bucky’s favorite pastime had become sitting and listening to Steve read aloud in the beautiful language while the ex-assassin stopped him every time he missed something or needed clarification.

He hardly ever stopping him for the sole purpose of listening to that silky voice continue to bless his eardrums.

It was a little easier for him than it was for most. He had a general understanding from all of the studying and secret conversations he and the hooligan across the room from him would have in high school, and it wasn’t like he never met anyone who spoke French during the war. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t understand just about every damn word that Steve was saying.

But hay, so what if he pretended he still needed help just so that Steve would keep talking to him that way? So what if he added just that little bit of a hesitation between words in order to hear that heavenly dialect flow from that perfect mouth? Nobody could blame him for that. And especially nobody could blame him for the color in his cheeks every time Steve caught him off-guard with a sudden burst of French in the middle of a normal conversation.

Bucky had barely held himself back from, on a few reoccurring occasions, asking Steve to sweet-talk him in French during sex. It was embarrassing. One time he had literally resorted to biting his tongue to refrain from switching languages himself. He knew the day was yet to come where his strange desire would get the better of him, and the way Steve was looking at him right now had him wondering if that day was today.

“Attention, poupée,” he said softly, and Bucky froze, entire body stiffening in his seat. Steve gave a small smile, looked back down at the book in his hands, and Bucky exhaled slowly and shakily. He was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Steve looked back up, brows furrowing. “Ça va, mon chér?”

Was Bucky okay? Hell no. He was half-hard already and if Steve didn’t put the book down and spurt some love-language nonsense at him pretty soon, he was afraid he was going to spontaneously combust.

“Oui,” he said anyway, aware of the obvious strain in his voice. His cheeks were blazing, he could feel it, and he pressed his metal arm to one side of his face in an attempt to cool off. Steve raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Bucky was sure that he saw a smidge of something darker, almost lustful in his eyes. But perhaps it was wishful thinking. His fella looked at him for a long moment, and Bucky forced himself to relax in his chair, putting his hands in his lap and covering up the semi-present bulge in his pants rather hastily. Steve’s eyes flickered downwards for a split second, almost too quickly for anyone to notice, but Bucky caught it, and his mouth ran dry.

“Poupée,” Steve said in that same low, silky, and almost gravelly voice that he’d had ever since they were still in Brooklyn, and Bucky melted a little bit, biting his lip softly and allowing the desperation to seep into his expression.

“Merci,” he whispered roughly, avoiding his partner’s eyes bashfully. It did things to him when Steve called him pet names. He forced his gaze back towards the man only to find him standing, and a lot closer than he had been before. He looked up through lidded eyes and found his fella looking down at him with a sort of intensity that he hadn’t expected so early in the evening. The sun shined golden through the window and the quiet hum of static-y oldies playing on their record-player really set the mood, though, and if Bucky had cracked opened the whisky for a small glass just an hour or so earlier, he might be asleep by now.

“You could’a told me, Buck,” Steve murmured, a strong, firm hand reaching out and threading its fingers through Bucky’s long hair and grabbing at the back of his head firmly. It was too soft to hurt, but too firm to be anything but a position of power, control over the man he was holding, and Bucky couldn’t help but shiver a little, debating his choices within his head.

He could be sweet on Steve and get everything he wants. Or, he could be naughty. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to leave the misbehaving for another day.

“‘S embarrasin’,” he mumbled bashfully, allowing his gaze to trail down towards the floor, squirming a little bit in his seat.

“Don’t be a baby, Poupée,” Steve warned, grip tightening a little on the back of his head as the other hand began to brush hair out of Bucky’s face. “You know the rules around here. No whinin’. Not while I’m teachin’.” Bucky shuddered at his words. So Steve was playing that game.

“You gonna teach me some French, Mr. America? Sounds a little controversial to me,” he grinned goofily, allowing Steve to pull firmly until his head was tilted all the way back and he was staring directly up at the towering image of his lover, surrounded by a halo of golden-orange light from the window behind him. The record player clicked and stuttered for a moment as the next track prepared to play, and Bucky’s grin widened when the music did start to pool out of it, filling up the room with a sense of quiet calmness despite the clear sexual tension.

“Yeah, Buck. I’m gonna teach you some French,” Steve promised lowly, hands leaving his hair and grasping his shoulders. Bucky was pulled roughly up from his seat and practically thrown onto the couch just to the right of it, grunting softly at the impact. His hips circled mindlessly as his cock hardened the rest of the way and began to ache fully, blood rushing through its veins.

“Dépêchez-vous, Monsieur,” he teased softly, glancing over his shoulder at where Steve was discarding his tight little t-shirt and making his way over in just two short strides. “You want me, or what?”

“Don’t be cute, Poupée.” Steve’s breath was hot against the back of Bucky’s neck as the blonde’s hands roamed over the brunet’s hips, fingertips pressing into the skin under his shirt and slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. Bucky hummed softly, clambering up onto the couch and making grabby-arms at the bigger man with big, doting eyes.

“You love me,” he said with a soft pout, and damn, if Steve’s eyes got any darker they wouldn’t be blue anymore. The man’s knees hit the cushions as he swung a leg over Bucky’s hips, straddling him and wasting no time in kissing him senseless.

“I do love you,” Steve agreed warmly a moment later, breaking his authoritative character for a brief moment to stare at Bucky with all of the love and adoration in the world. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate it, but he was growing impatient and would soon wiggle out of his pants himself if Steve didn’t remove them for him.

“En français, Monsieur,” Bucky teased dotingly, unable to keep the smile from his face when Steve’s expression hardened despite his grin and he tore Bucky’s shirt from his body, running his stubble cheeks up and down the brunet’s stomach and coaxing little whimpers and groans out of him as if there were no tomorrow.

“Je t'aime,” Steve corrected himself moments later, drawing Bucky’s sweatpants down his thighs agonizingly slowly. “Reste tranquille, Poupée.” Bucky did as he was told and stilled his hips, lifting them so that Steve could pull the garments the rest of the way off, underwear and all.

“Merci, Monsieur,” Bucky begged sweetly, a soft smile playing with his lips as he looked adoringly up at his partner. Steve simply nodded, whispering sweet nothings in a beautiful language right up against his lover’s ear as he prepared him carefully, saliva and pre-come doing the job just fine in place of the little bottle on the bedside table that they hadn’t quite reached in time.

Soft hitches in breath and sighs passed between both men when Steve finally pushed himself all the way inside of his partner, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh mon Dieu, mon amour,” he managed, and it was music to Bucky’s ears, the way those words flowed out in his gorgeous voice, and it had him on the edge already, teetering between orgasm and just barely holding on. He bit down on Steve’s shoulder, tears of euphoria filling his eyes as he just barely clawed himself back, refusing himself the opportunity to ruin this before it had even started.

When Steve started to move, it almost immediately put all of Bucky’s hard work to waste. A calloused but gentle hand closed around his shaft and it was nearly over. The friction was more than he could handle, especially when Steve’s cock just hardly brushed his prostate and he was moaning opened and hot, hair sticking to his rather sweaty forehead.

It didn’t help that Steve was literally babbling away in French, speaking about nothing and everything at the very same time. He caught a few ‘I love you’s and maybe some profanity, but he didn’t say anything in return. His vocal chords were too occupied by the noises of pleasure and gasps for breath that consumed his thoughts as well.

When Steve crashed down, it was the final push for Bucky as well, and the dam crumbled to a pulp as waves of pleasure and all sorts of emotions flooded his entire body.

It took a few moments for him to come out of his daze, and when he did, Steve was fast asleep, draped across him like a big blanket. The record had started over in the background. A soft breeze gusted through the window above the couch, and Steve’s book lay closed on the coffee table. Soft, orange light trickled into the apartment, lighting everything up with a golden-yellow aura.

And Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way. 


End file.
